


Polaroid Pictures

by cloakoflife



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Angst, Did I Mention Angst?, F/M, I'm Sorry, Pining, So much angst, moping, poor!david fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:33:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6297358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloakoflife/pseuds/cloakoflife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the words of my wonderful Jennysintardis: “A moany Scotsman? Count me in!”</p><p>Fair warning: here be angst. I'm turning poor!david fic into an official genre.</p><p>Fic inspired by Polaroid Picture- Frank Turner. I highly suggest a listen before/during reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polaroid Pictures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JennySmithInTARDIS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennySmithInTARDIS/gifts).



> I have the MOST wonderful beta in the entire world. Together, we are fighting a war on hyphens. This fic is dedicated to her, for putting up with me making her cry and is entirely a testament to the confidence she's given me in my writing skills.

They never could figure it out. None of them could. It was the question the press couldn’t work up the nerve to ask. The question still skated around at conventions, fans dancing prettily around it.

It’s the question I’m _dying_ for them to grow the balls to ask because the answer screams inside of me. It burns.

Yes.

Yes, yes, yes.

Yes, we used to be lovers. I remember it all. I remember it well.

I remember drunken fumbles, the stolen moments and the way she felt in my arms; all softness and curves. I remember the way she smiled up at me, a picture of innocence, sweetness, light and pure happiness.

There’s no bad in Billie Piper. None at all. She’s all good. She’s pure.

She’s special, unique.

I always knew it. But I didn’t know everything about her.

I always thought she’d be there. I thought we were meant to be and- although life had cruelly parted us for the moment- that when the time came, she’d still be there, waiting for me. Waiting to make my life complete.

***

_But everything changes_

_You got married had children_

_And I don’t have your number_

_The one I can remember_

_Is the place you used to live with your parents._

***

I remember. I remember when everything changed. It was the play. That bloody play. That’s when everything shifted. When I went from being the one by her side to the one watching her perform.

In the days leading up to press night, we talked every evening until the early hours. Her sleeping pattern was completely messed up, she wasn’t eating well and she desperately needed an anchor, someone to keep her grounded.

I’d talk her through her emotions, keep a diary of what she’d eaten and order food to her hotel online. We’d laugh about old memories and plan our futures. Nothing heavy, no words of commitment, just ideas for road trips and places we wanted to visit. I was always careful not to make any promises; she already walked on the shards of a thousand shattered dreams.

Opening night was a success, as I’d always known it would be. That’s when her phone calls ceased.

 I went to see her, to cheer her on. She was amazing, a natural up on that stage. Her eyes shone and I’d never seen her so happy and healthy. I cheered louder and longer than anybody. Afterwards, I gave her flowers and held her tight. We posed for photographs and I felt proud to have been the one to give her the nudge, privileged to have supported her and given her the strength to share her talent with the world.

Later, I remember reading her autobiography and glowing at the sweet things she’d said about me. I remember skimming through parts. The mentions of Lawrence were, of course, of utmost unimportance. I don’t honestly think I registered reading his name. He was to be just a side note, in a small chapter of her life. Chris was, of course, a huge and important part of her past, there would never be any escaping that. But me? I was to be her future. I was so sure of it.

 

I was stupid.

***

_But in the stillness of the moment it takes_

_For a polaroid picture_

_To capture our faces forever_

_The world has turned a touch on it’s axis_

_And the only thing certain_

_Is everything changes._

***

I remember. I remember filming _Rise of the Cybermen_ when she was running around in that skimpy, ridiculous maid outfit, shivering in the freezing wind. I remember her being a trooper, just mucking in and getting on with it, that stubborn blitz spirit, whilst all the while I was getting more and more fired up and angry on her behalf, biting my tongue to hold back from flying off the handle at the crew and shouting at them to _get a fucking move on,_ before she froze to death.

I remember wrapping my arms around her, enclosing her in my puffer-coat, feeling her nipples- hardened from the biting cold- pressing into me, through her flimsy excuse for a dress and my shirt. I’d had to bite back a moan at the sensation and counted the hours until 5 am when hopefully, if all went well, we’d be let go and I’d drag her back to mine to well and truly warm her up.

“Thank you,” she’d breathed, her warm breath condensing on my icy neck.

“Hmm?”                                                                                                                                                                     

“You know,” I felt a small shrug against me, from somewhere beneath the depths of material I’d enclosed her in. “You always do this. You always look after me. You’re just…” she’d snuggled deeper into my neck and sighed, “…just so wonderful to me.”

I remember my heart swelling, pounding, almost painful and blood coursing through my veins, filling me, flooding every part of me with _her_. That was the moment, the very millisecond, I realised I was in love with her.

 I remember when fake guns sound effects filled the air and Billie jumped, startled.  Without thinking, I’d instantly headed towards her; my Billie, my responsibility. My love.

She’d turned to Noel and laughed at their over-reaction, clearly fine, clearly not needing me and I’d forced myself to stop, watched her smile light up her face and the faces of everyone  around her.

She’d had a rough few years. She didn’t need to belong to anyone. She needed some time to just belong to Billie. To be free.

 _No_ , I’d decided _she isn’t mine. Not yet._

From that day, I’d known she was the one.

**

_So honey I just need a little time_

_To take a little time with it today_

***

I remember. I remember the day we met. When I’d been offered the job of my dreams, I’d been petrified. I wasn’t sure whether to take the job or not. It was a _huge_ responsibility. A colossal risk. I didn’t think it was one I was willing to take on.

But good old Julie had convinced me to come over, just to meet Billie and see how we got on.

“She’s so lovely David,” she’d gushed. “I just know you pair will get on. Come and meet her either way, even if you decide to say no, what harm would it do?”

I remember feeling sceptical that I’d get on quite so well with a little popstrel eleven years my junior, but as Julie had always been good to me I acquiesced.

We’d sat opposite each other at the table and the connection had been instantaneous and electric. I’d never felt anything like it before. We shared exactly the same sense of humour and had each other in hysterics within minutes, whilst Julie and Russell stared at us bemused and somewhat smug. It was immediate, our bond, like we’d known each other all our lives. Immediate and intense.

I remember sitting next to her on the sofa back at my flat, much later that evening. Despite hours of drinking we were still swigging cheap, corner-shop prosecco from the bottle, giggling like teenagers and it had suddenly hit me. The fact that this was the most fantastic opportunity I’d ever be offered in my life. To see anyone else running around with Billie having a laugh every Saturday night, doing the job I should have been doing would have been excruciating. Unbearable. I took in her face, the sparkle in her eyes.  Her infectious grin caught; I found myself smiling back at her and _knew_ I had to take this job.

Suddenly, the mood had shifted. Her face grew serious, her brow furrowed as if she was weighing something up. I’d stared at her lips intently, my tongue peeking out to unconsciously wet my own. Our eyes met as we leant closer in together.

I just _knew._

***

_To savour all the triumph and tragedy_

_Before it slips away_

***

I remember. I remember the beach. Seagulls flying overhead, screeching loudly,  piercing through overwhelmed brain.

We hadn't read the script together. I'll always regret that. I'd read it in my trailer, alone. She'd read it in the car, on the way back from a long shoot. Also alone. We should have been together. There are many times, many moments when we should have been together, really. Every day, in my mind. We should still be together.

But then, more than any other time, we should have been by each other's sides.

Instead, I'd been left to pace up and down my living room; pouring myself scotch after scotch, hopelessly trying to calm my shaking hands, to swallow the lump in my throat, to hold back my tears.

And then had come the phone call.

"David.... David...I-" She'd descended into incoherent floods of tears. I'd broke, silent tears sliding down my face. How, how could we do this? How could we possibly say goodbye to each other? Even as the Doctor and Rose, how would we physically be able to do it? All-the-while knowing we, David and Billie, also weren't going to see each other every day anymore. I couldn't bear the thought of her being ripped away from me. Part of me couldn't help but hate her for leaving me, but mostly I just wanted to be with her, I needed her. She was like oxygen. I was terrified that I would drown without her.

"Where are you?" I'd asked, thickly.

"Mine," she'd gasped out.

"I'm coming."

A short taxi ride later and I'd been pounding up the stairs to her flat. I’d banged on the door, hard and loud until she’d wrenched it open. Her face was a beautiful mess. She'd been crying hard, mascara running, cheeks wet with tears, bottom lip ruby red where she'd been worrying it with her teeth.

I’d shut the door behind me and taken one long, hard look at her, drinking her in. Then I stepped forward. I cupped her face with my hands and kissed her, fiercely. She'd gasped in surprise, then kissed me back with equal fervour. Our kiss deepened, grew in passion and intensity. She slid her hands around my waist and under my shirt. The soft skin of her hands tickled sensitive skin, and I'd let my fingers slip and tangle in her mussed up hair.

I remember savouring the taste of her, even then. Even back when I'd thought she'd be mine, I'd felt the urgency, the need to commit everything about her to memory. I'd wrenched myself away from her and stared down at her intensely.

"Don't go," I'd begged her. Her eyes had been shiny with unspilled tears.

"David, please. It's too late. If I'd known... oh god, if I'd known..."

My sorrow turned to anger and I'd growled as I pushed her down onto the sofa and kissed her aggressively, furiously.

Punishingly.

Afterwards, she'd held me in her arms as I'd cried against her chest. She'd stroked my hair as sobs shook our naked bodies. I'd begged and begged, mumbled words lost in her flesh, my weakness poorly disguised in kisses, as my heart broke.

I remember the beach. I remember saying those words to her, hearing her say them to me. I remember loving her, adoring her with every ounce of my being. I remember hating her for putting us through this and hating myself for hating her.

I remember holding her tight afterwards, listening to the waves roll onto the shore and letting my emotion dissipate. She wasn't gone yet. She was there, with me, warm, soft and perfect in my arms.

I still had time.

***

_Before it slips away._

***

I remember. I remember the day she told me she was engaged. Again. A million emotions had been warring on her face. She was clearly happy, excited, over-the-moon at her new life and her new love; but also scared, fearful of my reaction. Fearful of something else?

The truth is, after all this time, I still don’t know. I don’t know if she loved me, if she ever shared my dreams of a future together. I like to believe she did, but she never said it.

Then again, neither did I. I was always too scared. Scared of hurting her, scared of getting hurt myself, scared of it all.  

Maybe she’d gotten tired of waiting for me. Perhaps she didn’t realise that I was just trying to give her all the time and space she needed to heal and grow after her troubling adolescence. Maybe she thought I didn’t want her like that. Or maybe she’d just never loved me, had never seen me the way I saw her.

No matter what the reason, it was too late. My time had run out.

I could see from that old, familiar sparkle in her eyes and the new, intrusive sparkle from the ring on her finger, that my time was up. I was too late.

But her infectious grin caught; I found myself smiling back at her, saw relief flooding her eyes as I scooped her up into a bear hug and I knew. I knew she’d be happy, be okay with somebody else.

And hopefully, if all went well, so would I.

***

_Let go of the little distractions_

_Hold close to the ones that you love_

_Cause we won’t all be here this time next year_

_So while you can, take a picture of us_

***

Today, we’re side-by-side again, only not really. She’s here, back with me, only she’s not. Just like Rose isn’t back, it’s a wolf wearing Rose Tyler’s face; it feels like Billie’s only really here in the flesh, not in spirit.

I’m not being fair, I know that. She’s here for all the right reasons; for the fans, for the character, for her love of the show.

There’s no bad in Billie Piper. None at all. She’s all good. She’s pure.

We smile and joke, she teases me mercilessly but it’s all hollow, a shadow, a glimmer of past times. I enjoy her company, of course I do. She’s bloody fantastic. She’s perfect.

But I know that after these 3 days she’ll be gone again.

I was wrong, I was stupid.

I’m not her future.

I’m barely a footnote, really.

Then Matt pulls out a polaroid camera from somewhere and asks us to pose together. I smile brightly, slide an arm around her waist and hold on to her, and the moment, as tightly as I can bear.

***

_Take a polaroid picture._

***

But all too soon both are gone.

***

_So in the stillness of the moment_

_Make sure you take a polaroid picture_

_And keep it with you_

_Forever._

_***_

She left today. Back to her new life, with a hug, a squeeze and a smile goodbye. I have another three days shooting with Matt, John and Gemma and then it’s time for me to go back too. Time to go back to my own new life, my own happy ever after. Time to leave the past where it belongs.

I sit here alone in my hotel room and I remember. I remember every time I made her laugh until her she could barely stand and her forehead had fallen forward, resting on my shoulder as I smiled into her hair and steadied her with my arm.

***

_To remind yourself that everything changes_

_But there was this one time_

***

I remember her gasping beneath me, coming down from a mind-blowing orgasm, still clenching around me as I softened inside her. Both of us drenched in sweat, smiling at each other. I bent down and she arched her neck up, searching and we met in the middle with hot, wet, lazy, perfect kisses.

_***  
Yeah there was this one time_

_When things were okay._

***

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please, please leave feedback or kudos! Your love really does feed more future writings! This fic wouldn't have happened without the positive comments and support I had from Closer to the Sun! :D


End file.
